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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046245">My Friend Gurdy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousingreg/pseuds/cousingreg'>cousingreg</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - 1970s, Child Death, Dark Past, Dark fic, Death, Detective Eddie Diaz, Drug Use, Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Murder Mystery, Other, Partnership, Reporter Buck, Secrets, Tragedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:13:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousingreg/pseuds/cousingreg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck's a reporter with a shady past, and a willingness to throw himself into the fire to get a good story. Eddie's a detective who just wants to do his job right, avoid getting fired, and make it home alive to his son in one piece. They couldn't be any more different, but when a murderer with more than three victims under his belt starts sending Buck letters saying that he's his biggest fan, Eddie who's the lead on the case now has no choice but to navigate a reluctant partnership with the reporter in order to catch him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley &amp; Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley &amp; Josh Russo &amp; May Grant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. a reluctant partnership</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I think you go first in this situation.” Buck starts by saying, hands clasped on the table, a milkshake by his hand. They’re in a diner booth down the street from the Tribune that he works at, his favourite place to go. He figured this was as good a place as any, and Eddie held no objections to it so here they are.</p><p>“Are you sure? You look like you’re going to burst from excitement.” Eddie says, mouth grim while Buck’s holds the opposite. “You know this is a multiple murder investigation now, don’t you?”</p><p> Buck loses his grin a little, his chest tightening. He knows <em>that</em>, but this is his big break. The big scoop and story that makes someone’s career. His career. He screwed the last one up, he’s not going to screw this one up too.</p><p>“I know that, Detective, but this is also my big story. See it from my side too!” He complains, but he does feel a little guilty, he knows that Eddie is right.</p><p>“Eddie.” Eddie reiterates, eyes closing a little in exasperation as his hand comes up to rub at his forehead, as though just the presence of Buck is already giving him a headache.</p><p>“Okay, <em>Eddie</em>, you want me to go first then? I guess it makes sense, I am the one with the leverage.” He sips his milkshake through the straw and watches Eddie’s jaw clench as his eyes narrow.</p><p>“Right…” He says. “Or I could get arrest you for obstructing justice.”</p><p> Buck laughs, big and full. “You know our lawyer at the Tribune will have me out in hours, and besides I’ve got the article all typed up and ready to go if anything happens to me. I’m smarter than I look, Edmundo.”</p><p>“Eddie!” He snaps a little, but that only makes Buck smile wider. Eddie shakes his head and mumbles something in Spanish under his breath.</p><p>“No need to bring out the mother tongue.” Buck clips back.</p><p>“You do realize that three people are dead and that you hold the only tangible clues?”</p><p>“I know that, Eddie, but the thing is, those letters were addressed to me. Both times and the killer said that he was my biggest fan, so who do you think in this relationship he likes more?” Buck indicates between them both before reaching over and stealing one of Eddie’s fries, making Eddie glare all the more.</p><p> Eddie motions his own hand between them and says, “There is no relationship between us.”</p><p>“But there could be.” Buck raises an eyebrow, and concedes just a little, almost sheepishly with, “Or a reluctant partnership if that is better for you.”</p><p> Eddie sighs but he doesn’t protest against it, and Buck grins from ear to ear as he claps his hands together. “Good!” He announces. “So we’re on the same page.”</p><p>“I need to see those letters and put them in evidence, what do you want in return?” Eddie acts like saying the words is like chewing glass and Buck feels a bit bad, but he doesn’t like this Eddie. The way he treated him when he brought the first letter in, like he was less than dirt and he didn’t even look at it! He thought he was making it up! But nope, turns out it’s the real deal and even predicted the third. Now who’s the sucker? So sue him if he wants to make this detective who thinks he knows it all grovel a little. It’s his right, alright?</p><p> Buck leans back and crosses his arms, a more genuine smile on his lips. He states simply, “I want to help you catch him.”</p><p>“No. No, absolutely not.” Now Eddie is leaning forward, arms crossed and features in outrage. “You’re a reporter. A civilian. This isn’t some Hollywood flick. You could get hurt or get yourself killed.”</p><p> Buck doesn’t lose his grin, he’s not scared. In fact his heart beats a little more wilder at the thought, and in a good way. He’s always been jumping into the fro with little regard for himself, to get that story, the next big scoop. Danger is where he thrives, and a killer interested in himself? Sending cryptic letters? Saying he’s his biggest fan? And then he teams up with the LAPD to catch him? Books wouldn’t print fast enough. And he would, write a book with that premise. A story so large, it’s on people’s minds for decades.</p><p>“The way you’re not grasping the danger of this is making me even more reluctant.” Eddie says suddenly.</p><p> Buck leans in as though they were some kind of co-conspirators. “Look, Eddie, you need me already? The killer obviously is trying to impress me or something-” Eddie scoffs, head shaking. “-and I think there’s more to these letters than the obvious. The way they’re written… I have the nagging feeling that maybe there’s some kind of code? Some hidden meaning, you know? And I’m good at this! At investigating. I can help you.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Just hear me out-”</p><p> Eddie starts to stand, reaching for his jacket, but Buck stands up too, a hand on his arm, making him stop by saying, “We can negotiate! I’m not asking for full access. Just that you… Call me first when you find a new body. That you let me see the evidence first. Let me write my articles and you can have the letters. You can even proofread the articles. If any information is too sensitive… Well I’ve give you three strikes, no questions asked and- and you can make me stay in the car three times out of the week. Fair, right?”</p><p> Eddie pauses his movements of trying to leave, eyes not looking at Buck, but in obvious consideration on the floor that they do stare at. Buck’s feels lighter than a balloon. He knows that he’s won him over. It’s the same feeling he gets when he’s won others over, or worn them out. Depending on how someone would look at it.</p><p> Eventually Eddie sighs and sits back down, and so does Buck. He points a finger at Buck and says, “You get the first call, I get the letters. Three strikes per article, and you stay in the car no matter what when I tell you to.”</p><p>“Detective-” He starts to argue, but Eddie shakes his head.</p><p>“I’m serious Buck. These are my conditions.”</p><p> Buck doesn’t like it, but it’s better than what thought he’d get. “I still get to print the letters though, right?”</p><p>“A copy.” Eddie concedes. “And I get five strikes on every article.”</p><p>“Three.”</p><p>“Five.”</p><p>“Three.”</p><p>“Ten.”</p><p> Buck sucks in a breath. “Fine. Five.” He pulls away just as Eddie holds out his hand. Buck can’t help but smile as he reaches out and shakes quickly, sealing the deal.</p><p>-</p><p>“I can’t believe you got him to agree to all that.” Josh says as soon as he gets back and spreads the good news.</p><p> Buck grins. “I’m good.” He tells him as he puts his bag down on his desk and sits at his chair, arms stretching out before him. Smile large and alive. He feels pretty good about himself with this. He never thought that after Taylor Kelly, he’d get another shot, but here he is and it’s going to be printed in black and white. Not on a screen with flashing lights and a woman who stomps your heart out.</p><p>“You alright, Buck? You faded out a little there.” May tells him, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Yeah.” Buck sits up, shaking his head as Sue walks over, eyebrows held up and waggling, a hot cup of coffee in hand. She gives it over without comment. “For me, Sue? You shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“That’s for getting a cop to agree to a ride along on a case. You didn’t screw him did you?” She asks it pointedly and Buck would more offended if it were anyone else, but this is just how she talks. Straight to the point and with no room for recompense. He is though, a little hurt.</p><p> He puts his hands across his heart and says it all the same, “I’m wounded.” He reaches for his coffee and sips it carefully. “And no, I didn’t sleep with him. What do you take me for?”</p><p>“It’s the seventies, Buck, free living and loving.” May tells him with a raise of her eyebrows, no judgment in them at all. Buck sometimes wishes that he could be the same.</p><p>“We had dinner and I made a reasonable offer, and because it was so reasonable and maybe I have something called personablity and charm, he agreed. Besides, I have leverage. You’re the one that taught me, Sue, you never go into a negotiation unless your hand is better.” He smiles. “And mine was.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure, personability is not a real word.” Josh says with a finger pointed, and he would know being a part-time editor who also complains of Buck’s choices of words on a daily basis when he’s editing his articles, so this is nothing new. Buck just pulls him in a half hug that he struggles out of quickly, saying, “I know you’re just proud of me, Josh. You all are! And jealous. Very jealous.”</p><p> Sue smiles small, but gives him an honest glare as she says, almost like a predator, “You know I’d kill you if it gave me your exclusive.”</p><p> She turns and walks away, Buck a little terrified as he says out loud almost to himself, “I believe you.” He sips his coffee and yelps.</p><p>“What?” May says, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Salt.” Buck mumbles as he looks to her.</p><p>“Probably because you took a few hours off and didn’t tell her any of this until after the fact.”</p><p>“She would have stolen it.” Buck mumbles as he turns back to his work. “Besides, I forgot.”</p><p>“Sue’s a bitch.” May says without thought as she too turns back to her work. “You can say it. She put salt in my cupcakes because I forgot to put her name on that senator exclusive a few months back.”</p><p>“She had to fight tooth and tail, can’t really blame her.” Buck says all the same, still trying to find the best in someone.</p><p>“Still,” May concedes a little, “We need a new manager.”</p><p>“If Buck’s big break works out, maybe we’ll all be working under him?” Josh offers, which only makes him and May laugh, long with a few of the other reporters around, unable not to listen in at how close they all work together.</p><p> Buck pouts. “Hey, I’d make a great boss.” This only makes them laugh harder as he sips his salty coffee. It’s actually not that bad.</p><p>“Maybe in a few more years, Buck, but right now… After what happened…” May as kind as ever doesn’t finish it, but Buck knows that they’re only joking. Having a laugh.</p><p>“It’s okay, May, I get it. Me being responsible for people? It is pretty funny.” But he wants it. One day, he does.</p><p> Until then, he’ll work hard and get his good name back for his fellow employees and then he’ll get a good name for the public, because no matter what anyone says, even that anger inducing detective, he’s going to catch this guy. He’s going to garner the biggest story this state has ever seen, and yes, he’s including Watergate in that.</p><p> His phone rings and he picks it up quickly. “LA tribune, Reporter Buckley speaking.”</p><p>“<em>It’s me.</em>” Eddie says curtly. “<em>We’ve got another body. I’ll be outside your office in twenty, if you’re not there, then I’m leaving without you.</em>”</p><p>“What?” He asks, surprised, as he gathers his things. He never got a new letter yet, what’s going on?</p><p>“<em>And bring the letters.</em>” Eddie hangs up before he can say anything more as he hastily gathers his things. Following pattern, he should have gotten another letter, what happened?</p><p>“Where are you going, Buck?” Sue asks as he hurries past her office, her sticking her head out.</p><p>“Uh… A lead?” He tries.</p><p>“Try again.” She says plainly.</p><p>“New body.”</p><p> Sue smiles all grim like and reaches for something at her desk. She hands it over and Buck stares. Another envelope, just like the other two. A letter inside addressed to him. But this- this is opened and he’s never seen it before. “Where’d this come from?” He asks impatiently, his satchel moving over his shoulder so that he can run down the stairs. He doesn’t want Eddie leaving without him.</p><p>“It came for you about five days ago. Guess I forgot about it, sorry.” She shrugs, her eyes glinting in lies.</p><p> Buck’s fingers curl into fists, angry that she kept this from him for so long, and angry that she opened it even though his name is on it. But she’s his boss, and he needs this job. No one these days is really itching to hire reporters, especially ones like him who have been in this field this long and still hasn’t made their big break yet.</p><p> He bites his tongue, even though it’s almost impossible and says, “Thanks.” He tries not to look at all the reporters in the office who no doubt would have overheard this. They’re office is small. TV is the hot new thing, not black and white print. The shame and embarrassment though, it’s hard to run from that, but he tries. Hey, he’s been successful in the past.</p><p> He does catch May and Josh’s eyes of sympathy and the mimicking of a glass tipping and being drunk. He smiles, nodding. He’d love to go for a drink with them tonight.</p><p>“You’re late.” Is how Eddie greets him when he gets in the car.</p><p> Buck simply sticks his tongue out at him in retaliation, which makes Eddie snicker as he starts the car and drives out into the busy LA streets. “You look my son when he’s been told he did something wrong.” Eddie tells him, then almost as an afterthought adds, “Childish.”</p><p> Buck frowns and almost- almost pouts. “Yeah, well I didn’t. My boss hid this little number from me. And wait you have a kid?” And with that he pulls out the third letter from the manila envelope. His address and full name, <strong><em>Evan Buckley</em></strong> with a more personal, <strong><em>Buck </em></strong>written on the back in perfect cursive that’s also messy and odd.</p><p>“Shut up and read me the letter.” Eddie replies quickly, clearly uncomfortable about his son, so Buck does.</p><p>“For the record though,” Buck has to say as he thinks of his niece on the way, “I uh, I love kids.”</p><p> The letter starts out the same, what looks like ramblings but then a place and what the killer’s going to do to this victim. They could have set up surveillance, had cops nearby. They could have caught the bastard. <em>He </em>could have caught the bastard, but instead they’re driving to a new body and this letter is now useless, except that Buck is sure that there is something more here. Something like code, or just, s<em>omething</em>. He’s not sure what. Call it a gut feeling or something his subconscious is picking up on. He’s not sure. </p><p>“Let me guess, body was found at Hyron Park on third and had some acid work done on him?” He shudders at the thought. Last time it was an eye, and apparently the guy had blinded someone before. A child nonetheless. Before that two prostitutes who had their lower parts mutilated. All they could find in their records according to Eddie was a few underage teenagers but that’s about it.</p><p>“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Buck lands on as they get closer to the crime scene.</p><p>“What is?” Eddie asks back.</p><p>“All these people did something to children. This looks like revenge. Or vengeance. I’m betting the fourth did too. Something with acid.”</p><p> Eddie whistles. “Good for you, Buck.” He claps him on the back after pulling into the park, all the other cop cars and the coroner swirled in behind yellow tape, familiar faces that Buck ducks his head a little at but tries to stay strong. “You’ve figured out his motive, maybe you’re a real reporter under all that after all.” He smiles and Buck glares.</p><p>“I’m not an idiot, and look! They’re all parks, all public access. That’s got to mean something.” Buck summarizes before he reaches for the door, but before he can open it completely, Eddie’s hand lands on his and pulls the door back up until it’s shut. Him so close, that Buck can smell his aftershave, something musky.</p><p>“No.” Eddie says simple, eyebrows raised and Buck is left gulping as Eddie pulls away. “You stay in the car.” Buck opens his mouth to argue, but before he can Eddie holds up his hand. “Our deal, remember?”</p><p> “I knew that deal wasn’t good enough.” He does his best not to pout as Eddie gets out, and he thinks maybe Eddie didn’t hear him, but then he’s chuckling as the door shuts and he guess that he did. <em>Fuck. </em>He hates people undermining him. He’s just as good as everyone else where he works, just because Taylor tricked him… Okay so yeah, he was sleeping with her, but it was a relationship. They were fire and fire, and they were going places. Fuck. He even bought a ring, but then she sells them out and goes the enemy. <em>Television. </em>All he’s saying is, it wasn’t his fault. Her story, that was <em>his</em>. She might have helped, but he’s the one that got the big break, got that information. It’s just not fair.</p><p> Knuckles tap on the window and Buck rolls it down, Chimney smiling. He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’ve got to be kidding me, you’re on this too?”</p><p>“Third one in a month.” Chimney says as he chews his gum. “Cap wants all of us on board. Hen’s just looking over the body now. What are you doing here, Buck?”</p><p>“I cut a deal, alright? I’m allowed to be here.” He says indignantly, but on second thought shakes his head and adds, “Don’t tell Maddie?” Eyes, hopeful, but Chimney only laughs.</p><p>“I can’t keep a secret, you know that.”</p><p>“And yet you’re a cop.”</p><p>“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. And let me guess, it’s with Diaz? The new guy who knows nothing about your past here.” Chimney summarizes.</p><p> A sweat breaks out along his head, eyes pleading once more. “Don’t tell him.”</p><p> Chimney stares back just as long. “I won’t.” He says and despite his inability to keep secrets, Buck believe him when he says that he’ll keep this one. His stomach is all knotted up in guilt all over again and he can’t wait for that drink tonight. He can’t wait to catch this guy. Maybe there’s more than people at the Tribune that he wants to prove something too, but even if that’s the case, it’s between him and himself. If Eddie… He’ll break their deal so fast… And then he’ll never get his chance.</p><p> Chimney heads back and Buck tries to breathe as he reaches for the letters, focusing on something else. Although he tries to, his hands have a slight tremor to them as he shakily moves them across the raised ink at the bottom of each one. At the letters in bold black ink form, - <strong><em>Sincerely, your biggest fan.</em></strong></p><p>-</p><p>“Honestly though? Why does Sue have to put salt in my coffee? Steal my mail?” Buck’s words aren’t slurring yet, but the rest of the world is. He’s at a table in a bar, and Josh and May are next to him, nodding their heads as they each have their own drinks in front of them. Josh with his classic beer and a few empty shot glasses. May with her fruity drinks that are filled with more alcohol than either his or Josh’s ever will be. Maybe that’s why her eyes crinkle in something akin to only a light buzz. She really knows how to hold her liquor. Josh too at times, but for himself, well he’s afraid he lost some of his endurance after his sabbatical from drinking every night and picking up anyone who speaks. He no longer does that, the picking up of strangers, but the drinking has stuck.</p><p>“She’s a bitch!” May agrees, raising up her glass and okay, maybe she’s had a little too much too.</p><p>“She signs our paychecks though.” Josh announces as he points a finger at all of them.</p><p>“Still…” Now he slurs a little as he has more of his rum and coke. He’s not a big fan, but rum is what he knows. His drink of choice back in South America. Sure he wasn’t there long, but he drank a lot of rum there. It’s sort of burned into some kind of alcohol brain things… He can’t think straight. Too much booze. Too much anger, and underneath all of that to where he will not go again, is… <em>guilt. </em></p><p> A man is dead. At Hyron Park, and if he had just gotten that letter sooner… Now with Eddie at his side, they could have got him. Caught him right in the act. Guy had acid on his face. Eddie’s talking to the feds about it, but apparently he’s form some Middle Eastern country where his daughter refused marriage and- and well she was just thirteen! He fucking deserves it! Right!?</p><p>“Does he Buck?” May asks, always the voice of reason, and he didn’t realize that he was speaking out loud. “You know what my mom would say. Justice isn’t in our hands-”</p><p>“But the cops.” Buck finishes, then with a hiccup as he thinks of Bobby and that ache will never go away, “Or God.”</p><p>“But you don’t believe in God.” Josh points out.</p><p> Buck drinks heavily. “Do you?”</p><p>“With all the fucked up shit we report on, I’d say no, but then again free will or whatever, right?” May pines in, her eyes dangerous. She did get a master’s degree with her minor in philosophy. She loves to argue the finer points, and it always makes his head spin, so Buck does the only logical thing and throws a few peanuts at her.</p><p>“What the hell, Buck!?”</p><p>“No, God. Just drink and murder.”</p><p> Josh smirks, about to say something more, but Buck throws a few peanuts at him too and smiles at them both. “I’m going to catch this guy.” He promises them. “And then… I don’t have to lower my head to that bitch.” He moves his cup up, and drinks. Softer and more quiet for his ears only, “I don’t have to lower my head to myself.”</p><p>“We’re talking about Sue now, right?” Josh says as May begins walks over to the phone, calling for a Taxi no doubt. She always does when he starts throwing peanuts. He’s not an angry drunk, just a sad one. But he’s not there yet and May knows him enough to know that it won’t be pretty when he does, and he’s almost there, unfortunately. What he wouldn’t give to keep drinking, and never stop.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Bam!</em> </strong>
</p><p>“I will catch him, Josh.”</p><p> He’s not sure in his intoxicated state if he’s placating him or not, but Josh says all the same, “I’m sure that you will.”</p><p>-</p><p> Buck wakes up to the phone ringing in his ear and a blearily aching head as the sun shines through unclosed curtains. He’s on his couch, that much is certain but the window, the big one is blaring that morning sun in. He winces against it, a wave of nausea hitting and almost making him fall down in a huff again, but his phone is ringing and when a reporter’s phone starts ringing, you answer.</p><p> He moves through his small living room and grips the phone, picking it up to his ear as he reaches over for a piece of paper and pencil. A force of habit more than anything, but no one should really be calling him right now except work or an informant. Unlikely that it’s work though, they can’t afford overtime, and informants for himself have been hard to come by. It could be Maddie, but he doubts it. They’re on shaky ground at the moment because of their parents visit a few months back and all the wonderful revelations that followed. The others from the station, he hasn’t really talked to them much outside of polite consideration.</p><p>“Hello?” He asks as he rubs at his eyes, reaching for his frames. His contacts are in the bathroom. He wonders how he got them out when he was so drunk, or maybe it was May. He really doesn’t deserve her as a friend. Too good for the Tribune that’s for sure.</p><p>“<em>It’s me.</em>” Eddie says, and Buck sighs at first. He’s tired of this guy already… He didn’t like him the first time they met and that’s hardly changed much, but he’s his lead. His inside scoop or whatever. If he does want to catch this guy, he needs him as much as Eddie needs himself. It’s a truth he tries not think too much about.</p><p>“How’s it going, Edmundo? Is this business or pleasure?” His tone drops a little, seductive and teasing, his go-to when he’s caught off guard or annoyed, or both in this instance.</p><p> He can practically hear the anger vibrating through as Eddie says, “<em>It’s Eddie. And, fuck I didn’t want to call you, alright? But we got another body and-</em>”</p><p>“Well, it can’t be Gurdy, I haven’t got a letter.” Buck says as he looks for a cigarette, suddenly wanting, no needing one. But he quit and he never liked them all that much anyway. It’s a good thing the ones he has here aren’t tobacco but something a little more, a little stronger. He’s been trying to stop using those too, for Maddie and for the baby, but he’s hungover and they’re not speaking to each other.</p><p>“<em>Gurdy, unbelievable.</em>” Eddie mumbles to himself over the line.</p><p>“Hey, don’t knock the name! Our readers are loving it. Did you see our front-page?” He picks up his own copy and grins. That’s right, last night wasn’t just about bitching about their boss, it was about the win too. “Besides it’s not my fault that the killer likes to quote ‘Donavon.’”</p><p> He can practically see Eddie fuming, but he doesn’t get angry against him, instead his voice gets all soft and gentle, and very sorry. And just as suddenly, Buck is very scared. He might not know Eddie all that well, but frustration and anger, that’s normal. Kindness, that’s hard to give for the guy. He’s got one of those hard faces, a military stance. ‘Nam no doubt, but it’s more than that. Probably a father who expected nothing less but no emotion. A soldier since birth. He himself had no such luck. His parents were just… Absent.</p><p> He had to make himself. And maybe he didn’t do the greatest of jobs, but he did his best. As did Maddie, for as long as she was around.</p><p>“<em>Buck, look, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but I didn’t want you to hear it on the radio or TV…</em>” Eddie starts. “<em>Besides with our deal, you should be here.</em>”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” His heart is down his throat and in his stomach, and he is more awake than ever, hand freezing where it was spinning the pencil around on his fingertips only moments before.</p><p>“<em>We got a tip of a new body at Suncast Lane. Near where their drive-in is.</em>”</p><p>“A body? So? It’s not Gurdy, he would have sent me a letter first.” He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince now, because by the tone of Eddie’s voice, Eddie’s sure of what he’s saying. Buck doesn’t know why yet and he’s almost afraid to ask, because none of this is normal. Eddie’s called him about a body before and it’s never been like this, where Eddie is so, considerate. As though he’s sorry or something.  </p><p>“<em>There was a letter on her body, addressed to you. It looks like his. I’m sure of it, I compared it with the others myself but we are getting an expert to… The thing is Buck, Chimney recognized her. He says that her name is Sue Blevins, and that she’s your boss at the Tribune…” </em>Buck listens to the long breathe he takes before, “<em>Was.</em>”</p><p> Buck blinks. “Oh.”</p><p>“<em>Yeah. Look, I- I’m sorry, but will you come?</em>”</p><p>“I’ll be there soon.”</p><p> He hangs up, and grins.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. death in the family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Buck’s sitting in Eddie’s car, on the passenger side with the door open and feet on the gravel of the parking lot next to the park. A little further away from all of the other cop cars and the coroner, his once good friend Hen. He’s got the envelope tucked neatly under his arms, already addressed and possibly mailed. They can’t legally open it, only he can. It should be evidence but it’s not, at least not yet. He hasn’t opened it himself, his eyes are too busy being locked on Sue’s bruised face and body. He wonders how Chimney even recognized her under all that. They’re fresh, but they’re still colourful, almost deforming like some sort of terrible Mosaic painting.</p>
<p>“Do you have a cigarette?” He ends up asking, and Eddie who stands before him, half leaning on his car perks up, looks to him and shakes his head but Buck can see the lie in the corner of his eyes.</p>
<p>“I quit.” Eddie tells him, eyes anywhere but his.</p>
<p> Buck scoffs. “Come on, I deserve one, don’t I?” He’d rather be having some grass, rolled up and taking him away into oblivion. But instead he’s here and he’s on a seat with a letter in an envelope from his friend Gurdy, his ex-boss Sue beaten to death barely a mile that way.</p>
<p> Eddie seems to have some sympathy for him at least, enough to roll his eyes but not to say anything snarky. Enough to reach over him and open his dash and take out a secret carton of them, a lighter from his pocket. He doesn’t give it to Buck at first, instead Eddie takes one out, lights it between his lips and passes it over. “What?” He says when Buck doesn’t take it at first. “My lips not good enough for you?”</p>
<p> Buck stares, something odd in Eddie’s eyes, something different from before, he takes it and Eddie relaxes against the car again, seemingly himself all over again. As he was before. He takes a deep drag, balancing the smoke between his fingers as he looks to Eddie’s far off gaze to the trees beyond.</p>
<p>“She kept letters from you, right?” He asks. “You told me that once.”</p>
<p> Buck knows this trick, this line of inquiry and if he was in his right mind, he might play a little. But he’s tired of playing. He just wants to get this guy. “Yeah… Just the one I know of.”</p>
<p>“Did anyone else know?”</p>
<p>“You think Gurdy did this because of me?”</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t be your fault.” Eddie says after a deep swallow where his Adam’s apple bobbles, eyes still on the breeze of the trees.</p>
<p>“Yeah, no shit.” Buck says, but his hands are shaking as he takes another drag and his insides are scrambling a little. Tightening in that age old familiar guilt.</p>
<p>“We’re looking into if she had a past with child abuse. Her bruises indicate that.”</p>
<p>“So she abuses a kid, and then gets abused.” Buck reasons as he points his cigarette to one end of the open car door to the other to reiterate his point. He takes another huff and says, “Gotta admit, it’s sort of poetic justice.”</p>
<p> Eddie’s eyes turn sharply to his, sharp enough to make Buck falter. “What?” He asks.</p>
<p>“They’re human beings, Buck. We don’t decide when their lives end.”</p>
<p>“God?” Buck guesses and almost scoffs, but by Eddie’s burning gaze, he’s right on the money. He lets it go, putting his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it sharply, hands reaching to the letter, less than shaking now as he takes it out of the envelope. His full name on the front, <strong><em>Buck </em></strong>on the back. In Gurdy’s writing and in his style. Buck has no doubt, neither does Eddie by his intense gaze on his fingers working to open it up, but the cops won’t state anything definitively until it’s proven by experts.</p>
<p>“Here goes nothing.” He mumbles as he opens it up and stares at the letter. Another almost nonsensical musing, about justice and what’s done to the victim, <em>to Sue. </em>A location, this one to be exact. An inference almost to how he should understand this, but Buck doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He-</p>
<p>“Buck?”</p>
<p> Buck startles, a hand on his shoulder as he looks up to Eddie who looks at him curiously. “You okay?”</p>
<p> Buck looks to the detective down to his letter and tries to smile. “Just peachy. I need to take this to the office and get a copy, after that you can have it.”</p>
<p> The article will be a special one. About Sue and her life, and how much she’ll be missed at the Tribune. More than that though he’ll get into the personal side of things, how her bravery in publishing these stories has cost her, her life. How she wanted nothing more than to have this guy get caught.</p>
<p> Buck almost laughs right there and then at the thought. What a load of BS. But this is what he has to do. This is what will get the public interested, and after this article, they’ll all be looking at him. More than that, his story will finally break outside of LA, and California, he’s sure of it. He puts the letter back in and turns to Eddie who stares with narrowed eyes.</p>
<p>“What?” He asks again almost in exasperation. “You driving me or not? I got a ride here in a patrol car, you need this to test with the experts ASAP, right?”</p>
<p>“…Right.” Eddie says and walks around to the driver’s side, getting in as Buck closes his own door. But before he takes off, he looks to Buck curiously and says, “Don’t you feel bad? Or at the very least upset that she’s dead?”</p>
<p> Buck stares back, something jumbling in his chest. “She was a bitch.” He says instead. Eddie’s features falter in confusion but no judgement or anger.</p>
<p>“’Cause she stole your letters?”</p>
<p>“Eddie if I got that last one on time, we could have staked out the location and this guy out, and caught him.”</p>
<p>“For your big story?” Eddie continues to enquire, his face saying that he’s reading Buck like a cheap card.</p>
<p> Buck tries to smile. “And for your promotion.” He points at him with new found emotion. “Because let’s face it, you catch this guy, I’m seeing Sergeant in your future.” He indicates between them. “This is going to be good for the both of us.”</p>
<p> Eddie shakes his head and starts the car, as he backs out he says with true honesty, “I just want to catch the guy, Buck.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p> Back at the Tribune, Buck has to tell his colleagues what happened, and there’s mourning but it’s nothing like when Red retired and died soon after. This time there’s a bit of a buzz in the air and everyone’s asking him how they can help with the article, how soon they can get it off the ground. Everyone knows that the paper business is a dying one, especially with television news the way it is, growing at a rapid pace. This could catapult them. It’s good for all of them. Eddie looks more than a little mildly annoyed, but Buck tells him he doesn’t have to stay.</p>
<p> He stays anyway.</p>
<p>“I need that letter and envelope.” He tells Buck.</p>
<p>“Almost done.” Buck tells him back as he does just that. “I could just send it to you later.”</p>
<p>“This is the fifth victim, I need it now.”</p>
<p>“Alright, hold your horses.”</p>
<p> He takes the hard copy out and sticks it in his envelope, handing it over to Eddie quickly as Eddie glares a little. “I got it to you, didn’t I?” Buck says back but he knows it’s already been two hours. He just wanted to check a few things on it, he’s still somewhat convinced that there’s more to these cryptic letters than what first meets the eye. Besides, no offense to Gurdy, but they’re very… Dumb. Nothing too intricate, and yet they haven’t been able to catch him yet, and something in Buck’s gut tells him that he isn’t dumb. That in fact he’s the opposite and that there’s something here. Something more.</p>
<p>“You’re thinking Gurdy had a child hurt, right?” Buck asks.</p>
<p>“Or knew someone who did.” Eddie pauses from leaving to say that much, but before he disappears out of the door completely, he pulls Buck into an empty hall to the bathrooms and asks, “Did anyone know about Sue hiding your letters?”</p>
<p> Buck’s first instinct is to say no, but he can’t do that, and truthfully he’s been trying not to think about it. Reluctantly he nods his head. “Everyone overheard us a few days ago.”</p>
<p>“Everyone in the office?” Now Eddie looks alarmed.</p>
<p> Buck nods. “…Yeah.”</p>
<p>“How many employees in totally?”</p>
<p>“Forty three.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to need a list.” Eddie says, but Buck can tell that he’s not asking. “And please, Buck, don’t print this.”</p>
<p> His hand is on Buck’s arm, steady and sure, and Buck knows that he’s right, besides he doesn’t even want to. These are his friends. His family that accepted him after the ones at the station didn’t anymore. After he even screwed up with Taylor. He can’t even think of one of them…</p>
<p>“I won’t.”</p>
<p> Eddie doesn’t looks like he believes him, and it hurts a little but then he’s leaving and Buck is left with an article to polish off and a need for a large drink. Maybe even several.</p>
<p>“Everything alright?” Josh asks as he peeks over.</p>
<p> Buck almost jumps. “You scared me.” He says as he walks over back to the bullpen. Josh following after him, but try as he might he can’t see it being Josh. Guy is squeamish at spiders in the bathroom even. And loyal as hounds.</p>
<p>“So…” May says what’s they’re back at their desks. “Ding dong the witch is dead.”</p>
<p>“She was still our boss and she had our backs.” Josh says in defense.</p>
<p> May shrugs and goes back to her work.</p>
<p>“I’ll have the article done in an hour, then I’m taking an early day.”</p>
<p> May turns back, eyes sad and almost pleading. “Buck please don’t go to the bar again alone. You don’t need to do that. I could use some help on my mayor expose?”</p>
<p> Buck smiles tightly. “As fun as that sounds, May, I think today we all earn a drink.”</p>
<p> He pretends to not hear Josh’s mumbled, “Or a dozen.” Buck knows that one’s directed at himself.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p> Buck’s on his second beer and third shot when Eddie arrives just as suddenly. He walks in like a cowboy from one of those Wild West movies and Buck is left watching him through the sunlight that peeks in from the outside world. His mouth is set into a tight and grim line, and it wouldn’t be so funny if not for the way his eyes land on himself and look almost amused. He walks over and sits down beside him on the barstool. He orders a coke.</p>
<p>“It’s a bar, you’re supposed to drink.” Buck tells him.</p>
<p>“It’s a bar and it’s four in the afternoon.” Eddie replies simply as he asks for a burger and some fries, offering to pay extra since the grill isn’t on yet. The bartender grins and takes the money, a nod to Buck as he fills him up one last shot before disappearing into the back. Buck drinks it down immediately. He wants another one too, immediately.</p>
<p>“Now he’s not coming back.” Buck muses before reaching into his satchel and pulling out a tightly closed folder. He looks to Eddie who stares at him curiously. “Now before I give this to you, I need to know two things.”</p>
<p> He holds up his fingers, movements only the tiniest bit swaying, or so he thinks. His mind might be a little fuzzy too.</p>
<p>“Alright…” Eddie says as though he’s humouring him, but he doesn’t know the prize Buck holds. “What are they?”</p>
<p>“One, you got to promise to treat my guys… And gals, as though they were your fellow cops. Understood? When you’re investigating them I mean.”</p>
<p> Eddie stares, eyes a little more sharp and a whole lot more serious. He nods slowly. “I promise.”</p>
<p> Buck grins from ear to ear. “Good.”</p>
<p>“And the second?”</p>
<p>“How’d you know where to find me?”</p>
<p> Eddie laughs a little, the serious lines breaking on his face, and Buck finds himself laughing a little too. Smiling at least. It’s good to see Eddie a little less than serious once in a while. Looks almost like the guy’s almost got a permanent ‘cop face’ on most of the time.</p>
<p>“May. I called your office and she told me.”</p>
<p>“You know May?” Buck narrows his eyes a little, surprised too, before he throws his hands up. “Of course you know May.”</p>
<p>“I know my Captain and his wife, they invited me over for dinner just after I started up here. Their kids May and Harry, they’re all very nice. Kind. When I brought up the infamous Reporter Buck on the other hand, they became a little less than kind. At least Athena did, my Cap seemed sad and May was defensive. Funny how you can divide a family with just one name.”</p>
<p> The more Eddie speaks, the more shitty Buck feels until he’s all jumbled up inside, knots and guilt, and every awful thing. He hears the <strong><em>bang </em></strong>and shudders. Without thought he reaches over the bar and grabs the hardest liquor there is, pouring himself another shot, but before he can fill it completely, Eddie takes it out of his hand. He’s left frozen as Eddie puts it away from himself, further away until he can’t touch it.</p>
<p>“I’m your reluctant partner, remember?” Eddie says. “So tell me what I need to know. Otherwise, maybe I won’t let you in on all this wonderful evidence that helps drive your articles.”</p>
<p>“What are you without me and my letters?” Buck says stubbornly, but his resolve is crumbling. He’s drunk a lot and he’s a lot sad, because Sue is beaten to death and one of his colleagues, his family might be the fucking Hurdy Gurdy multiple murderer, or at the very least helping him. It’s all so fucked up.</p>
<p>“Come on, Buck, what happened? You used to be a cop, didn’t you?”</p>
<p> Buck swallows deeply and stares into the glass of clear liquid that burns and makes everything better. Makes him forget. Not feel. “Yeah.” He says eventually before drinking it stiffly. “I was. Now give me a cigarette or I’m not saying another word. Those are my rights, aren’t they?”</p>
<p> He turns to Eddie who almost smiles, maybe he would have if the situation wasn’t so dire or tense. Buck almost expects him to go back out to his car and retrieve the smokes, but instead he pulls them out of his pocket, sticks one in his lips and lights it. Buck takes a large drag and says, “I fucked up.” He laughs almost bitterly as he continues to smoke. “First year on the job and I fucked up. Cap was taking me out, getting me wet behind the ears when a freak thing happened… In the end I screwed up, a kid got hurt, and then I quit. I was in a bar much like this when Taylor found me.”</p>
<p>“Taylor Kelly?” Eddie asks.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Buck says sadly, the sudden urge to cry as he thinks of her. “I’ve never loved a woman the way I loved her. Can you understand that?”</p>
<p> Eddie looks saddened too, a sorrow crossing his features that Buck can’t touch. “Go on.” Eddie says instead.</p>
<p>“She took me in as a reporter, I caught a big break and then she stole everything. Took it to a televisions station and got big as an investigative journalist. She helped get television off the ground, our newspaper fired half its staff and you know what? They didn’t look at me like the cops did. My so called, <em>friends</em>. They just took me out for a drink and we cursed Taylor Kelly together. After that I tried anything to get another break, but they only come once. That’s what Red used to say.”</p>
<p> There’s a long moment of silence before Eddie sighs and lights his own cigarette, Buck is left staring just a tad more sober now. “I thought you quit?” He says.</p>
<p> Eddie turns to him, a small smile that’s almost deadly before he’s back to his usual grim attire. “I guess I did.” He says, and smokes on just as a burger and fries is laid before them. The burger cut in half, Eddie pushes one over to Buck and takes his own half. He bites into it hungrily and Buck wants to push it away, something like pity tasting rubber and burnt, but Eddie only raises an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“It will help sober you up, then we can figure out who the fuck Gurdy is from your list… You said you want me to treat them like I would my fellow cops, well it will be the same as anyone else, but clearly not for you. So let’s do it together, alright?”</p>
<p> Buck feels something warm in his chest a little as he stares into Eddie’s accepting eyes. It feels like friendship. Like the start of maybe a real partnership. He swallows down everything else and reaches for the burger, and you know what? It’s not half bad.</p>
<p>“But you do realize, Buck, that from what you told me about the kid that got hurt because of you, that this is probably why he’s targeting you? Sending you letters.”</p>
<p> Buck chews, suddenly very hungry, determined more than miserable now. “Yeah. I was trying not to think about it.”</p>
<p>“And yet you still wanted to throw yourself into the danger, to get your bring break, right?”</p>
<p> Buck stops chewing and looks up to Eddie. “I want to catch him.” He tells him sincerely and very truthfully as he reaches out for a fry. “That you can count on, <em>partner</em>.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p> They go through the names together, Buck not so discreetly asking everyone in the office where they were at the time of the murders. Gathering alibis with Eddie isn’t as bad as Buck first thought it would be. It feels more like he’s putting people into the clear, clearing their names, and getting to the root of what’s actually going on. Buck tries to think of another explanation of how Gurdy would know about Sue and the letters, but he honestly can’t think of one. Sue didn’t have many close friends, the one son that she did have died in ’65, her grandson moved to Canada and married, settling down there. She never gets to see him. As for friends? She went home after work and stayed in on weekends. There’s just nothing, except…</p>
<p>“She was a foster parent. When her son was a kid and she needed more money to support him. Her husband was a drunk and a gambler at the time according to neighbors.” Eddie explains. “This was when she was a typist at a column in Birchdale.”</p>
<p> Buck nods as he crosses off another name. They’re in his apartment, a small place that he cleaned up thoroughly before Eddie came over at his insistence. There’s always the station, but too many memories there for himself and at the Tribune everyone’s an alleged suspect. His place just seemed the best.</p>
<p>“She was under a lot of stress.” Buck says.</p>
<p> Eddie nods. “The foster kid ended up black and blue in the ER. She said it was a freak accident down some stairs, but she stopped being a foster parent after that. No charges were ever filed. Her husband was on a bender across town when it happened.”</p>
<p> Buck shakes his head. “She really was a bitch.”</p>
<p>Eddie gives him a pointed look. “We shouldn’t judge, Buck.”</p>
<p>“But the kid survived?”</p>
<p>“Until he took his life five years later at sixteen. He was in and out of foster homes. A few more hospital visits.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Eddie, but this Gurdy seems to know what he’s doing.” Buck says with a shake of his head. How these people can get away with this stuff makes even himself vengeful. Makes his blood quake and sympathy arise.</p>
<p>“It’s not our job to judge, Buck, and he took lives.”</p>
<p> Buck tries to hold onto that, but it’s hard when he’s looking at the evidence right in his face. He’s about to bring up the next name when his phone rings. He reaches out and answers it, “Reporter Buckley speaking.”</p>
<p>“<em>Reporter Buckley, I’ll never get used to that.</em>” Chimney says with a slight chuckle that makes Buck freeze up on edge.</p>
<p>“What is it? Is it Maddie? Is she alright?”</p>
<p>“<em>Now you care. You know she’s beating herself up, and you won’t even call.</em>”</p>
<p>“She could pick up the phone too.” His heart beats and he’s crumpled inside, tied up in knots. His sister, he misses her dearly. But it’s so hard after everything that they’ve been through. Her coming here when she heard what happened through his various letters and postcards he never stopped sending her, even when she stopped picking up his calls. When she got here he was a mess, drinking more than this, smoking up whatever he could. He stole from her, lied, and hit her once. His darkest hour really. Aside from…</p>
<p> He doesn’t deserve to talk to her. It’s better if he just stays out of all of their lives.</p>
<p>“Why are you calling, Chimney?” He lands on instead, Eddie’s eyes perking up at the name.</p>
<p>“<em>I called for Eddie, told me he’d be there, but I guess you should know too.</em>”</p>
<p>“Know what?”</p>
<p>“<em>You’re colleague, Josh, he just confessed.</em>”</p>
<p>“What!?” He’s standing up now, more confused and uncertain by the second. “To the murders?”</p>
<p>“<em>Not exactly. He said he fed information about you to Gurdy. We haven’t been able to get down to the details yet because he’s refusing to cooperate now. Put Eddie on the phone, Buck.</em>”</p>
<p> He hands it over numbly, Eddie giving him a confused look as he takes it. He can’t think, really, because the idea is just too preposterous. Josh? Giving information to Gurdy somehow? About himself? None of that makes sense. Josh is the most loyal friend Buck’s ever known aside from May. He wouldn’t do this. He just wouldn’t.</p>
<p>“We need to get to the station.” Eddie says, already having hung up.</p>
<p> Buck looks to him, head already shaking. “It can’t be him, Eddie.”</p>
<p>Eddie looks sorry, but he doesn’t argue, he just says, “Are you coming?”</p>
<p> And really there’s nowhere else Buck would be. He gathers his things and follows after Eddie into his car, zipping down the road to Josh. To one of his best friends who has just admitted the deepest betrayal, one Buck doesn’t believe for a second.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“Let me talk to him.” Buck says to Chimney who greets him and Eddie. The others stand around, or they’re sitting, but they all hold similar expressions of discontent. He’s not welcome here, he knows that, but this is Josh. Josh who stood by him after all of this, and after Taylor. Took his side against Sue, let him drink and sleep on his couch. He’s not leaving until he talks to him.</p>
<p>“You know that’s against protocol, <em>Buck</em>.” Detective Deluca, Sal as he once was known to himself, says. Buck’s eyes flicker a little to him, but he doesn’t give him the satisfaction of giving him his full attention. Sal was accepted back after the way he treated Chimney and Hen, after his too many onsite shootings. Why is he different? Why couldn’t they let him… <em>Fuck. </em>He has to get his head on straight.</p>
<p>“He’ll talk to me.” Buck continues, eyes only on Chimney’s. “Please?”</p>
<p> Chimney concedes a little with the way he shakes his head, eyes saying that he’ll agree.</p>
<p>“You got to be kidding me, Han.” Sal stands up a little even as Tommy his partner tries to get him to sit down.</p>
<p>“He can see him.” Chimney says, before looking to Sal sharply. “It’s the Captain’s orders.”</p>
<p>Buck startles a little at that, he hasn’t seen Bobby in… It’s been too long.</p>
<p> He doesn’t linger on it though, Eddie’s already guiding him to the interrogation room even though Buck already knows exactly where it is. The big heavy door opens and shuts behind him. He stands in a cold room, with Josh looking a thim, a black eye blooming. He looks surprised and almost hopeful before he almost collapses in on himself in despair. “What are you doing here, Buck?” He mumbles to himself almost, eyes on the table in front of him.</p>
<p>“Who’s putting you up to this?” Buck says in way of an answer as he walks closer, hands on Josh’s arms, as he pulls a chair up. “Come on, man, you gotta talk to me. What’s going on? Who did this to you?”</p>
<p> He almost touches the bruise but Josh pulls away and half glares. “Who do you think? Your old thug buddies of course.”</p>
<p> Buck’s insides twist. “I’m- I’m sorry.” He tells him, ashamed.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Josh spits out, then more sadly as he continues, “Me too.”</p>
<p>“You can talk to me though, what happened? Why’d you come here and say this? Who’s threatening you?”</p>
<p> Josh looks up to him, hesitant and uncertain, but Buck can see the truth behind his gaze. He knows that he’s right about Josh. He knows that this is not of his own making, or choosing for that matter. But just as his lips open to say something, the door does and Buck almost yells as he turns to face Eddie’s sorry expression.</p>
<p>“Eddie.” Buck says harshly but Eddie only shrugs apologetically.</p>
<p>“Captain wants to see you. Now.”</p>
<p> He looks to Josh who looks away now, he doesn’t say anything more. “I’ll be back.” Buck promises, and it is a promise as he gets up and follows after Eddie. He will come back and he will get the truth, no matter what it takes. He knows that this wasn’t Josh.</p>
<p> He wants to yell, or get angry but no sooner is he out of the interrogation room that he’s in another. Bobby’s office, with Bobby’s shifty eyes looking from Eddie to him. “Thanks, Eddie.” He says and then the door shuts and Eddie is gone, and Buck is all alone, but not before Eddie’s hand strays warmly on his shoulder for just a second longer. A comfort and a reassurance that Buck can’t find it within himself to be grateful for in this moment, but he will in the next.</p>
<p>“He was this close to talking to me, Cap- <em>sir.</em>” Bobby flinches a little at the title change, but he looks up strongly all the same.</p>
<p>“I’ve been made aware of your involvement in this case.” Bobby says with tight lips. “How your life may be in danger. I think it’s best if you don’t continue investigating this in your capacities as a reporter.”</p>
<p> It’s so formal, so stringy as though they never spent hours in a parked car on surveillance. Had each other’s backs in chases, both car and on foot. As though Bobby never sat him down and told him that there’s more to being a cop than the action. As though they were never anything more than formal acquaintances to the other. As though partners, or friends, or even family was all in Buck’s head and none of it was real at all.</p>
<p> It makes him angry and upset, but mostly hurt as he clenches his fist together and steps forward a little, teeth ripping into his lip to keep most of the anger at bay. “I screwed up, okay? I get it. But who hasn’t here?” He waves his hands towards the bullpen and watches as Bobby’s impassive face cracks just a little. “You all treat me like I’m the worst person ever, and I get it! Because you know what? I think that about myself too. But I have a chance here, a real one. I’m not going to let you talk me out of it again, and you know what? I don’t need this. You’re not my Captain anymore. You’re not even my friend.”</p>
<p> He watches Bobby’s face fall and turns sharply away on his heel, ignoring him calling after him, “Buck! Buck!” He’s already halfway out of the station, and then out the door. It’s not until he’s on the sidewalk, breathing heavily, hands shaking with the oncoming of a panic attack that he remembers Josh.</p>
<p> He kicks a trash can and swears, ignoring the looks he gets, he runs up to a payphone and puts some money in the slot.</p>
<p>“<em>Detective Diaz.</em>”</p>
<p> He almost smiles. “I knew you went by ‘Diaz.’”</p>
<p>“<em>Eddie.</em>” Eddie says sharply, and Buck almost laughs before Eddie asks the question, “<em>Are you coming back?</em>”</p>
<p>“Tomorrow.” It’s a promise. He- he feels terrible about it, but- but Josh will be fine. Won’t he? “Can you keep an eye on Josh? I just- I need to get my head together and look through his alibi again.”</p>
<p>“<em>I’ll do my best. See you here tomorrow… Partner.</em>” The last part sounds like it was painful for Eddie to say, but Buck smiles large and wide, and his heavy breathing subsides so maybe it was worth it.</p>
<p> And because he’s Buck, he has to say, “Partners, huh?”</p>
<p>Eddie hangs up the phone.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p> Buck goes home and looks through Josh’s alibi again, calling everyone, and then going around himself to talk to them in person and get proof. It was the right move, because he has it, the proof. These murders weren’t Josh, and when it comes to him giving Gurdy information about himself, about Sue, he can’t find any evidence to support that. It could be possible, Buck’s reporter mind and former cop mind says, but Buck knows he wouldn’t. And if Josh did under duress, he would have said something after, like in the interrogation room surrounded by cops. Buck knows that he has to speak to him again, but just as he gets ready to leave to do just that, his phone starts ringing.</p>
<p> Something dark drops in his chest, down into his stomach and he knows before he even picks up the phone what has happened.</p>
<p>“Josh is dead isn’t he?”</p>
<p> He hears a sharp intake of breath from Eddie over the line. “<em>Suicide. How’d you know?”</em></p>
<p>“Lucky guess.” He says bitterly. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. burnt soup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Josh is dead. There’s really not much else to say, but that <em>Josh is dead. </em>Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet for him, or maybe it has. All he knows is that it doesn’t feel real one moment, and achingly so the next. He had the option of going to the crime scene, but the thought of it made him sick. He’s seen death before, bodies rotting and freshly new. Eerily silent in the echo of a chamber where their souls once were. He’s seen Sue even, and yet somehow, Josh is different. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him like that. A bedsheet around his neck, eyes sunken in, no longer large and bright, and filled with laughter. With sarcastic commentary. With kindness. Because he was… Kind.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” It’s a dumb question, he knows, but the way May tightens her fingers around her glass is gripping. Angry and upset doesn’t even begin to cover it. They’re drinking beer, Josh’s favourite, at their spot in the bar that they all love and have always gone to. The one where Josh has taken him home with him on a number of occasions, letting him sleep it off on his couch because when he used to drink beyond the capacity of throwing peanuts, he’d get sad. So sad that loneliness inside where his station left him, could not be contained. Where Taylor turned her back on him. Josh understood. Josh cared. Josh was there.</p>
<p> He was kind.</p>
<p> May stares of into the distance, and for once he can’t tell what she is thinking. If she’s mad at him for bringing Josh into this inadvertently, or angry at Gurdy for pulling him in. They both can’t see how Josh could have done this to himself, which goes without saying, and so to think of anything else feels like disloyalty. A betrayal of some kind. Something Josh would never do. So they’re angry instead. May is. He’s more… Determined. To figure it out. To finish it and catch Gurdy. And he will. Somehow he knows that more than he knows with absolute certainty what happened in Josh’s cell.</p>
<p> May scoffs, eyes finally turning to his. “Angry?” She enquires, eyebrow raised before turning back to her glass, eyes distant all over again. “Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it.”</p>
<p> Buck is angry too, but it’s overshadowed by the need to figure this all out. His mind is racing and none of it is making sense just as much as it is. The information feels loose, like sand slipping through his fingers, and yet at the same time if he’s careful with a little water, he’s sure that he can mould it into something. That it’s possible.</p>
<p> Either Josh was giving information to Gurdy, he is Gurdy, or he was covering for someone because he was being threatened. Buck can’t see any other explanation as to why he would cover for someone in this instance other than that. It must be it, but how to figure it out? How to get to the bottom of it all?</p>
<p> The only thing he can think of is that it has to be someone from the Tribune. There’s no way around that horrifying thought. No. That horrifying truth. He leans in at that to May and says, “Look May, I know you might be angry with me but I can’t stop looking for Gurdy.”</p>
<p> May’s eyes snap up confused and then almost smiling in laughter. She practically scoffs as she says, “Stop? Are you kidding me? I’m with you all the way, Buck. I might not have liked Sue, but she didn’t deserve that, and Josh-” She stops herself a little, choking up as the grief chokes her and the room. He himself starts to feel his own tears, his own lump in his throat. “He’s the last person who deserved this.”</p>
<p> Her words are firm, voice strong, and hand curled into a defiant fist on the table. “We have to catch him. This, <em>Gurdy.</em>” She shakes her head like he can’t understand the name, or him at all. And funnily enough, Buck feels the need to almost defend the murderer. Which is ridiculous and not entirely true, more so he wants to explain. About the children hurt and about vengeance, but looking into May’s fiery eyes, he can’t find it within himself too because if he does, than it opens something up that he doesn’t want to think about, let alone speak of.</p>
<p> His own mistakes. Why he’s being targeted too, in a way.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to like what I have to say.” He lands on, her eyes widening a fraction at that small confession. But then they turn steely again as she leans closer and says, “Try me.”</p>
<p> Buck takes a deep breath, unsure and not altogether certain as he says, “It’s someone-”</p>
<p>“Phone for Reporter Buckley!” A loud voice calls, the bartender. Buck looks up just as May does, the phone in hand and eyes on his with a nod. Buck looks to May in confusion before getting up and reaching for the headpiece.</p>
<p>“Hello?” He asks into the receiver.</p>
<p>“<em>I’m sorry about your friend.</em>” The voice is husky and smooth all at once, a tone to it that screams sarcasm and fun. Buck’s whole body fills with goosebumps almost immediately. He doesn’t recognize him though, not one syllable. That in itself makes his head spin.</p>
<p>“And you are?”</p>
<p>“<em>Come on, Buck, we’ve been dancing for a while. You know me and I know you. Eye for an eye, right?</em>”</p>
<p> From the letter, it could be anyone, the fullness of those letters were published aside from the envelope they carried. And yet, Buck’s sure it is him. Feels it in his gut, but he wouldn’t be a good reporter if he didn’t ask the question, “How can I be sure it really is you?”</p>
<p> The man, <em>Gurdy, </em>chuckles. “<em>That’s good. I put your full name on the front, and ‘Buck’ on the back. I know you like it that way.</em>”</p>
<p>“And what do you like? I’m sure ‘Gurdy’ isn’t what you had in mind.”</p>
<p> The man seems to think about it for a second, or maybe he’s puffing on a cigarette, it’s anyone’s guess, least of all Buck’s. Eventually he says, “<em>It will do.”</em></p>
<p>“Why Josh?” It comes out without him thinking it through, he’s just so angry and hurt, and filled with sorrow. With grief that tears him apart. Josh was there for him through it all, him and May were his rocks. His family. He should have protected them. He should have gone back into that station but he was so full of his own crap, that he couldn’t find the way back. He was a coward, and if the roles were reversed he has no doubt that Josh would have had the courage to go back for himself. He didn’t deserve him. “He never hurt no kids.”</p>
<p> A long drawn out pause before, “<em>He got in the way. A missssstakkke.</em>” He slithers on the words, and it makes Buck’s heart jump out of his chest a little as May walks over with concerned eyes and mouths, ‘Gurdy?’ He nods back and her eyes widen in shock.</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to kill him.” His words are darker and deeper as that lump forms again and tears he’s been trying to hold back come to the forefront.</p>
<p>“<em>He killed himself… Funny enough, he was just trying to protect you. Now why would a man who knows your darkest do a thing like that? To a thing like you?</em>”</p>
<p> Buck freezes, and it’s no longer grief but the rumblings of old guilt filtering in. “What are you talking about?” His voice is solid and tense, as though he’s been biting on nails or glass.</p>
<p>“<em>We both know what really happened in 1972, don’t we Buck?</em>”</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>BANG. </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> He startles, eyes looking around frantically as the gunshot goes off over the line and in his head. A sweat breaks out and he feels his nerves on fire. His heart beating as though it were trying to run away. He sees other things too, a street and cars, people, and a man with fun. The horrible blue skies and steam. The smell of gunpowder and death. <strong><em>Bang. Bang. Bang. </em></strong></p>
<p> The lines goes dead, and he’s left listening to a dial tone, all of him frozen in fear and shock, and maybe in the lost memories of something far more sinister. He’s not sure what happened. If that gunshot was real or in his head, or both, but May is looking at him with wide eyes as though she heard it too.</p>
<p>“Oh, sorry, sir, but this came for you a few hours before you got here. I forgot.” An envelope is pushed over across the bar from the bartender. One that has his name neatly printed onto it, mailed to here, to his favourite bar. Same writing. Same ink. On the back in clear letters is, ‘<strong><em>Buck</em></strong>.’ All in Gurdy’s distinctive script.</p>
<p>“Was that…” May trails off.</p>
<p> Buck looks up to her sharply and drops the phone just as suddenly. He grabs the envelope and runs. “I HAVE TO GO!” He calls out to her behind himself as he races through the front door, hand held up to hail down a Taxi.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“We need to stake the place out.” Buck tells Eddie first and foremost, excitement thrumming in his veins, feet moving on their own accord in that same buzz of adrenaline. He doesn’t care how the other’s in the station are looking at him, all his focus and attention is on Eddie’s careful hands as he reads the letter, another under his chin in consideration.</p>
<p>“It looks promising, Buck.” Eddie says and there’s a smile itching to come forth on his lips, Buck can see it just as much as he can feel it as his own threatens to come lose. But there’s something a little sorry there too, and a little darker as Eddie says, “But…”</p>
<p>“But what?” Buck stops moving, staring at him incredulously as Eddie looks anywhere but him.</p>
<p>“But the feds are at the door knocking.” Sal says, not unhelpfully, but definitely angry enough. His own arms cross over his chest as he stands up and leans back against his desk. Apparently his hatred for the feds supersedes his own hatred for himself, Buck’s always felt the same. Felt that similar energy when the others told him about a few big cases they swooped in on, at the last possible moment. No credit given where it’s due. Acting like they’re better and all that.</p>
<p>“So what?” Buck gripes back and he swears that he almost sees Sal smile.</p>
<p>“So, noting.” Eddie says quickly as he looks to Sal then back to Buck. He puts the letter up on his desk and adds, “We just have to be careful.”</p>
<p>“Then we’ll be careful. Civilian cars and a stakeout in plain sight. The deaths usually occur four to five days after a letter. It’s not perfect, but if we catch him before the act, we can save a life and get him. Come you guys, you know that I’m right on this.” He looks between them all, between his current partner and his old ones.</p>
<p> And then before he can even see him coming, Bobby says, “It’s your case, Eddie.”</p>
<p> Buck freezes a little but looks up to Bobby who doesn’t look his way. It hurts more than it should as his old boss, Captain, friend- whatever, crosses his arms and stays with his eyes on Eddie. Eddie stares back, nodding. “Me and Buck will scope the place out first. Then we’ll call in with the vantage points a rough schedule for the next few days. I think at least two cars there at all times would be best. Sal, Tommy, you guys game?”</p>
<p> Sal nods without needing any other incentive, although Tommy looks almost reluctant until Sal jabs him in the arm with his elbow. “Ow.” Tommy squeaks before holding up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m in.”</p>
<p>“Chimney will be miffed that he missed this.” Bobby muses.</p>
<p>“Him and Bosko are still stuck on that robbery, Cap.” Eddie tells him.</p>
<p>“Right. Alright, you guys get out there and radio in ASAP. I want eyes on the scene this very second.”</p>
<p>“Copy that.” Eddie says as he stands up, gathering his things. Buck doing the same with the letter and the envelope. Eddie notices him taking it away and asks, “What are you doing with that? It’s evidence, remember?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t make a copy for my article yet.” Buck says, then with more energy and something like a smile, “Remember our deal.”</p>
<p> Eddie looks surprised, gentle and kind as he says, “Right.” They head out of the station together but as soon as they’re in Eddie’s car Eddie has to push it. “So let me get this straight. You rushed over here with this envelope and letter instead of going straight to the Tribune to print an article?”</p>
<p> Buck huffs a little and glares. “What do you take me for? This guy will kill without hesitation and brutally. We’re on a timetable here.” And the last two, Josh and Sue, and even the one before that, it was all because of the letters not getting to him first. They could have got him before all of this. And yes, he’s including Josh in Gurdy’s victim list. He wouldn’t be dead without him, if he was otherwise not involved.</p>
<p> Eddie continues to stare as though he can’t quite figure him out which only makes Buck more irritable. “Come on, Eddie. Let’s go.” Eddie knows what happened, how he screwed up. It’s not rocket scene to make a leap that he doesn’t want to screw up again. Eddie drives and muses with, “That last article about Sue broke to other states, Josh’s story would surpass that, and yet nothing has been published yet.”</p>
<p> He wants to yell, to get angry but all Buck can do is keep his mouth shut and try to stop himself from crying, or throwing them both over a cliff. Whichever comes first.</p>
<p> The letter stays clutched in his hands the whole way there.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“I’m sorry about your friend.” Eddie says with his eyes on the next car in front of them. They’re driving down a long stretch of road, trying to make it to Pine Acres as fast as possible without looking like they are. As inconspicuous as possible. That’s how they’re going to get this guy. Stealthy and quiet.</p>
<p>“He was forced into confessing, Eddie, and everything else. He wouldn’t do that on purpose.” Buck stares out his window but makes sure to try and catch Eddie’s eye when he speaks. Eddie only clenches his jaw a little and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. They’re almost there. A few more miles and bingo baby.</p>
<p>“Maybe.” Eddie decides on saying and him not believing Buck right at the jump makes Buck a little anger, a little exasperated, but mostly sad. Maybe even betrayed. As though Eddie can read his thoughts, he holds up a hand and backtracks a little saying, “All I’m saying, Buck, is that whatever happened, he knew more than he told us.” Eddie looks to Buck who looks right back. He can’t disagree with that, he’s been thinking along those same lines too.</p>
<p>“Maybe he was killed for it.”</p>
<p> Eddie breathes, eyes on the long stretch of road before them. “Maybe.” He concedes with, but it’s enough for Buck. For Buck it’s everything to be believed. To be backed up, and trusted. To be given based on something more than the sum of the outcomes of his actions.</p>
<p>“Shit.” Eddie whispers under his breath and Buck startles before he looks up too, ahead to Pine Acres, a lovely little picnic spot that’s already covered in two patrol cars. A white sheet billowing softly in the wind as one uniform pulls it with reverence over what looks like a woman’s body.</p>
<p> Eddie pulls into the parking lot in rapid speed and has his badge in hand in seconds. Buck is left scrambling to get out of the car after him. “LAPD, Detective Diaz.” Eddie tells them. “Eddie.” He starts explaining what’s going on, but Buck doesn’t have time to hear him, he’s already moving through the uniformed patrols and cars to the body, eyes wide and breath bated. He swears, if it’s another person he knows… But it’s not.</p>
<p> He stops suddenly and looks at a woman’s face that he doesn’t recognize, the sheet pulled back just enough to see that much. The wind carrying it almost away, as if the whole world wants him, or maybe everyone, to see her. To see what they’ve all become.</p>
<p> Curly brown hair lines her features, makeup in bright brilliant blue smudged along with mascara. She was crying. Bruises and redness along her eyes, deep red along her throat where he strangled her. Not with hands though, no, this is something else. And something far more brutal. The echo of this victim’s own torment, on a child most likely. But why and how. And a woman no less. None of it makes sense. This whole world doesn’t.</p>
<p>“Buck?” Eddie asks, and suddenly he’s there, eyes on him in concern and maybe even something that says that he cares.</p>
<p>“I don’t know her.” Buck says, and then before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s smiling and laughing, looking to Eddie’s confused and almost disgusted features. There are tears in his eyes and something breaks in Eddie’s as he sees them fill up. “I don’t know her, Eddie.”</p>
<p> Eddie nods. “Okay, Buck.” And he sounds as though he were talking to a child, maybe his son. Eddie has a son, Buck remembers that much. His hand is on his arm, his shoulder as he leads him back to the car and reaches for his radio. Radioing this in to Bobby and the others. “They’ll be here soon.” Eddie tells him.</p>
<p> Buck nods, appreciating that, because he’s not sure if he even heard the crackle of the radio, of the operator’s voice coming through at all. He’s on Eddie’s cushiony seats and the air is sickly sweet. Pine and nectar. Perfume and death.</p>
<p>“Buck?” Eddie asks, but it’s more like he’s inquiring in something that he does not name or put to words just yet.</p>
<p> Buck looks up. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Let me take you home.”</p>
<p> Buck looks back to the body of the woman, now fully covered, white silhouette and muses if that is how ghosts were born. Myth, legend, or false reality. His eyes are on the sun fading into a nighttime of more nightmares and dreams if one is lucky. He thinks of the child they have yet to put a name or face to that was strangled. What a sick world that even in LA, Gurdy could find so many people like this woman, like Sue and the others. So many victims. So many perpetrators. <em>Cain. </em></p>
<p>“Yeah, okay, Eddie.”</p>
<p> He moves his legs into the car and Eddie shuts the door, walking over to the driver’s seat, he starts driving, the sun continuing to go down. And Buck is so tired and exhausted, and there is a letter clutched in his hands waxing poetry of misguided vengeance and justice, but is it really misguided? Who’s to say? Eddie thinks it is. That God is the final judge, but Buck isn’t so sure. All he knows is that he’s tired, and so his head drifts back against the window of Eddie’s car, the movements like a rocking chair and him a babe ready to sleep in the warm comfort of another.</p>
<p>“According to God, Cain was the first murderer, right?” Buck says, words sleepy as his eyes drift shut, the world darkening.</p>
<p> A pause of silence, then, “Yes.”</p>
<p>“His brother… How old do you think he was?”</p>
<p> He’s almost asleep when Eddie finally answers with, “Not old enough.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“They never are.” </em>
</p>
<p>-</p>
<p> When he wakes up its dark and it tastes like something has died in his mouth, he’s still in and out, but the door is opening to the car and Eddie’s arms are around him, helping him to stand. He’s gentle but firm as they make it up a sidewalk that Buck doesn’t recognize. Into an apartment that he also doesn’t recognize. A door unfamiliar and a place with boxes filled lining the doorway inward. He’s a little more awake now as Eddie leans him against the wall and disappears further inside.</p>
<p> Buck takes off his shoes and walks in after him, finding the lights of a kitchen shining brightly down, a living room attached with a couch that looks so comfy, he hurts just looking at it. A perfect place to sleep, brown and laid upon on top is a quilt put together with care and love. The kind that makes you warm just touching it.</p>
<p>“Don’t mind the mess, I uh, haven’t had time to put these things away yet.” Eddie says almost sheepishly as he runs a hand through his hair.</p>
<p> Buck looks to the many boxes and shrugs. Eddie smiles a little more genuine but still a tad embarrassed. “Make yourself at home.” He says before turning to the stove. “Hungry?” He throws over his shoulder as he rummages in a cupboard for something canned or boxed, Buck assumes. He makes his move though and falls into the couch with the quilt, his letter falling from his hands onto a shaggy carpet that screams retro.</p>
<p> As he drifts under again, he wonders about Eddie’s son. Where he is, and what his name is. Buck hasn’t even asked, he feels silly about it all, but he’s had a lot on his mind. He feels the blanket curl around him, a hand on his forehead as if checking for his temperature before a soft almost sarcastic voice says, <em>“Sleep tight. Don’t let them bite.”</em></p>
<p>-</p>
<p> When he startles awake there’s sunshine creeping in through tightly closed blinds and the smell of old burnt soup. He sits up, and pushes the quilt away, hands coming up to his eyes, rubbing a little harshly as he looks around, confused by his surroundings. Eddie’s nowhere in sight but the memories from last night drift in all the same. Eddie said he’d take him home, Buck just didn’t realize he meant his own home.</p>
<p> He stands up and stretches, yawning but very well rested. Better rested than he’s been in a long while. He walks to the kitchen and finds the reason for the burnt soup smell. A bowl sits with a spoon and a note underneath reading, ‘<strong><em>Buck, eat up.</em></strong>’ Short and simple but when he reaches down to smell it, he’s not so sure he’s that hungry. It seems Eddie can’t cook very well, he wonders how his son survives.</p>
<p> His son.</p>
<p> Right, he doesn’t even know his name. He should ask. Eddie’s probably sleeping in his room, but Buck’s bladder is too full to worry about waking him. He stumbles down the hall to a single bathroom, relieving himself quickly and heading out, feet quiet on the carpet as he looks to the last two rooms at the end of the hall, he peeks his head into the first and finds Eddie under a lump of blankets snoring the house down. It almost makes him laugh, but he quickly and quietly shuts the door before walking back to the kitchen and living room. He should thank him and maybe cook him a proper meal, he doubts Eddie gets that much living alone.</p>
<p> But just as he gets to the kitchen, he stumble into a box in the hall and falters. Out of instinct Buck freezes at the crashing sound, ears opening up to hear if he woke Eddie up, but the snoring only quietens for a moment, a rustle of blankets as Eddie must have rolled over, and then silence. He’s fine. He didn’t wake him. It’s a relief really, because Buck knows that he kind of owes Eddie. He wasn’t in his right mind last night and there was a fresh crime scene, Eddie gave it up to watch over him. It’s something that Josh would have done, and that in itself makes his heart squeeze painfully as he kneels down to clean up the mess.</p>
<p> It’s a few toys, kids toys, probably his son’s, and a scrapbook filled with awards and pictures. Buck doesn’t mean to look, but he can’t help it. It opened up to a smiling baby in Eddie’s careful arms. His son can’t have been more than a few hours old, a woman sweaty and filled with a loving smile beside him on a hospital bed. His son’s mom. Eddie’s wife?</p>
<p> Automatically Buck’s eyes move to the piece of paper beside it, half expecting it to be a birth certificate, he’s left frozen in the most foreboding and terrible horror. Because it’s not a birth certificate, instead it’s a death certificate. And the name in clear black lettering is, <strong><em>Christopher Diaz. </em></strong></p>
<p>And the date is,<strong> August 5<sup>th</sup> 1972.  </strong></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 1972</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“I guess I’ll go with five on Rodrick.” Buck tells her with an almost hesitant grin as he puts the money in Hen’s outstretched and waiting hand. He’s not a hundred percent certain on his choice, but he’s more certain than the rest of them he likes to believe. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She grins from ear to ear as Sal whispers, “Sucker.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck looks to him with hands held out in slight outrage at the name. “What do you mean? I have it on good authority that Rodrick is going to come up first.” And he does, a bookie downtown told him although he never gave him any money, it’s still solid information, isn’t it? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Have you seen his last plays?” Chimney chips with self-satisfaction in as he puts his own money in Hen’s hand. “I’m with Negan all the way.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hen raises her eyebrows and agrees easily with, “He’s going for gold.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I still think Mike has a good shot.” Tommy says over his cup of coffee, sitting at his desk. He doesn’t usually get into these big discussions but now he peeks his head up, making Sal clap him on the shoulder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And this is why you’re the rookie, Kinard.” He says, head shaking and obviously disagreeing with him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I thought that was Buck.” Bobby says, coming out from seemingly nowhere into the bullpen. He’s got a smile on his features that makes the others match it in ease. He doesn’t mind a little betting pool here and there in the station, especially when it’s a little more quiet like this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Time to rock and roll?” Buck asks as excitement thrums in his veins. Bobby’s been taking him on ride-alongs’, a sort of breaking into being detective. Even though he’s proven himself on more than one occasion which is why he was promoted from uniform to shield, although Bobby’s quick to say, ‘one lucky drugs bust doesn’t make you a detective.’ Although the press and the SA would seem to disagree that thought. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There’s been a string of robberies in the downtown district. We at first thought that they were isolated events, but it looks to not be the case.” Bobby explains as he moves closer and then towards the door, Buck following after him excited. His first real case, as a second maybe, but his first real case nonetheless. He’s ready. He’s excited. He’s got this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And we’re investigating right?” Buck asks as he grabs his jacket, waving to the others as they go. They all half-heartily attempt to do the same, most of them already dissiluioned with a simple string of robberies, Hen more so since she got into med school, nights of course. She still has a kid to take care of.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Time to get your ears wet, Buck. Are you ready?” Bobby’s very serious, but there’s excitement glinting in his eyes as he says it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I am.” Buck says with a defiant nod and then because he can’t help it he fist pumps into the air and says, “I’m so ready.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Calm down, it’s just a simple robbery.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There’s been four of them though. Two electronics stores, a fur coat shop, and a buy &amp; goods shop.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> They make it outside now, walking towards Bobby’s car as Bobby smiles and nods appreciatively. “You remembered.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck reaches for his notepad quickly, opening it up to his robbery notes. He shows it to Bobby before they get into his car and Bobby takes a minute to look it over, nodding, obviously impressed. It makes something in Buck unfurl into something like pride. This… Approval is new to him, but he loves it. Makes him all the more excited for this case and to prove himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Looks good, when did you have the time to do this?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve been listening to the radio as I do the paperwork. At first I thought it was just electronic shops, you know because of the guy in the ski mask and the way he careful opened the door and stopped the bell from ringing up top. But then the other two happened, and same MO so it must not be electronic shops they’re after. All the money from the registers were gone, it seems like an escalation.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bobby gets into the car and Buck follows in after just as quickly. He’s not done yet though as he holds the notepad open and continues to explain. Bobby listens raptly. “First it was the electronic stores, then a fur coat shop which is decidedly more risky. But also a better pay cut. Then the buy &amp; goods with its second hand gold and silver, an even bigger escalation. So either this guy thinks he’s getting better at it, the adrenaline of the situation is addicting, or he’s in need of more and more money. Maybe all three. That’s what I would put my money on.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bobby supresses a grin as they head out, but he does allow a small one and a, “You did good, son.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck preens. “I uh, I’ve been doing this as a patrol guy too. That’s how I figured out where the drugs were being taken. I put together the information, and saw the pattern. I told you I deserved this shield.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bobby nods. “I believe you, but being a detective is a little different. We have to be more careful, you’ll see what I mean. For now, we’re going to talk to all the owners and witnesses again, form a timeline, and hopefully see a connection that the patrol guys might have missed since they were focused on this series of robberies as isolated incidents.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Copy that.” Buck says with a definitive nod as he scribbles all of this down on his notepad. He’s excited, he’s never done something like this before as a detective. It’s all very new. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They get through all of the owners and are headed onto the witness list next when they stop for a late dinner. It feels like they’ve been running around all day without a chance to eat, but they’ve gotten some good information. Lining up descriptions of a man with brown eyes and brown hair, Caucasian and smaller. Skinnier. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t think it’s a kid do you?” Buck asks as he bites into his hoagie. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bobby shakes his head over the food. “No, the owner of the fur coat shop said he looked like he just shaved. Smelled aftershave too. It has to be a man, young maybe, and shorter than most but definitely not a kid.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Seems too sophisticated for a kid anyway.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We might not get through all the witnesses today, it might take the better part of the week. There are a lot of them. That’s another thing this job takes, patience. It’s not all action. Most of the time in fact, it’s not. It seems though like this guy targets these shops at peak business hours, lots of people on the streets from work and school.” Bobby explains. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck nods. “It’s perfect to run into a crowd and blend in. Just take the mask off and the dark coat, hide it around the duffle, and whamo bamo- presto, he’s gone.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bobby chuckles a little. “He’s not a magician Buck, we’ll catch him.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As soon as the food is done and garbage tossed they make it back downtown to the first electronic store, to next door where their first witness lives. They knock on the door as the clock strikes closer to four, a busy hour. And maybe they should have seen it coming, but the last robbery was only a day ago, so they weren’t really on alert. They’ve usually been a few days apart. One second though they’re standing there as the crowd of people walks by, and the next someone’s yelling, “STOP! SOMEONE STOP HIM! HE JUST ROBBED THE JOINT!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> They both know that the suspect was carrying a weapon so it’s not unusual for the owner to call the police first, but when they look back to the owner who’s pointing, they find a gun in hand. That explains why… But there’s people everywhere, too dangerous to shoot for a civilian. Both he and Bobby turn though to where he’s pointing, and low and behold their fucking suspect. Dressed in a black coat, a black ski mask and a duffle filled with loot in his hand. Their lucky day. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Without a second thought Buck is on foot chasing after him, Bobby right behind him just as quickly. He saw the flash of a gun, so he’s already taking his out of its hold, down by his side as he was taught as he races through the crowd of people. They’re moving in and out, running out of the way as he yells, “STOP! LAPD!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> He watches through hounds of people as the man takes his mask off, brown curly short hair springing forth. He’s still running though, the flash of the metal of his gun in the sun in one hand. “STOP! LAPD!” Buck yells again, Bobby behind him somewhere in the crowd trying to catch up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then people are finally fully getting out the way, a man moves and Buck sees the glint of the sun on metal, and short brown curly hair. He watches as the metal is raised toward a woman, and without thinking, he fires. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>BANG! </strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“AHHH!” A woman shrieks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Buck is running to the figure bleeding on the ground, only when he gets there, it’s not their suspect. Instead it’s a kid with brown hair and a dark jacket, a metal crutch in both arms, one that was risen slightly. That he thought in the crowd of people and under the harshness of the sun, was a gun. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?” A woman yells, pushing against him to go to the boy. Her dark hair and complexion stares back at him for only a second before she’s kneeling down to him. Her hands go to him, rolling him over desperately, but Buck turns away horrified before he can see the totalness of the damage he has inflicted, and in the worst kind of shock as Bobby finally catches up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What the hell happened!?” He yells, hands on his shoulders as he shakes him. “BUCK!?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But Buck can’t look, even as Bobby leans over and tries to feel for a pulse. He already knows that he’s dead. His heart twists up and his insides become nothing, sharp and horrible, he leans over and pukes up everything he just ate. He drops his gun to the ground and starts walking away, even when Bobby is calling after him. He keeps on walking. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The whole world becomes grey. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There’s going to be a review.” Bobby says over the phone a few days later. He doesn’t come over and neither do the others. When Buck got home he sat in the shower and did not move for many hours. Now he sits in his living room staring into nothing, all he sees is the blood pouring out from underneath a little boy’s body. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright.” Buck tells him. His words don’t sound real, nothing is. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Buck…” Bobby breathes deeply as though he’s trying to either stop himself from saying or doing something that he’ll regret later, or trying to find the courage to do just that. “Is there someone that you can call? You can’t be alone in this right now.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maddie. Her name comes to him without thought. His sister who left him, who won’t take his calls. Who won’t read his letters or postcards because she hasn’t returned a single one. Maddie who always took care of him up until she didn’t. Maddie who pinky sweared, he who did too. ‘A united front.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No.” He says sharply, with more emotion than he’s had at all since…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The department has a psychiatrist, I’ll set up an appointment for you. His name is Frank, he’s very good.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck hangs up the phone and wipes the tears he didn’t even realize were falling. He gets up and slips his coat on. He walks to the house where he knows the drug supply is probably beginning up again. A man stops him, words sharp, “Who the hell are you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Crack.” He says. “Marijuana. Whatever you got.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> He puts a few bills forward and the man smiles before ushering him in. He gives him a lot of something, to smoke, to fall away into. Pills too, because Buck brought a lot of money. He takes them home and does most of them. His world explodes in colour and laughter, and then falls into snake pits and greying edges. Of blood soaked clothing and the death of all good things. He takes a little more, a little more, until it’s all gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Until his ears stop ringing in a phantom gunshot. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And in his last moments before darkness, he thinks of his sister, of her smile and laughter, of her pinky fitted with his own. ‘I promise.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘I promise too.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-</em>
</p><p>
  <em> When he wakes up his mouth is dry and his hand is warm. He hears the beeping next, or at least he realizes it. He’s sure it’s been beeping the whole time. His eyes open to a brightness that makes them burn and it’s hard to even do just that. Moving his neck hurts and his whole body is tired. As though he worked out every muscle until complete exhaustion. He licks his lips, desperate for some kind of relief. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t move around too much, Evan.” A warm voice says, one that he freezes at because he recognizes it. One he hasn’t heard in person or at all, for years. Tears well up in his eyes as he finally opens them and comes face to face with his sister. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“M- Maddie?” He croaks out, in shock and in almost denial. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her smile is sad and sorry as tears brim at the surface. She holds a straw to his lips and he drinks readily until she pulls it away, a hand in his hair moving it down softly. “How are you feeling?” She asks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why are you here?” He doesn’t answer her, instead he needs answers. As far as he can tell he’s in a hospital, the whiteness of the room confirming that. The beeping and the tubing all around furthers that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her eyebrows scrunch up. “You don’t remember?” He shakes his head, and even that takes an enormous amount of effort right now. “Evan, you called me. Remember? You weren’t making a whole lot of sense, but I got here as fast I could and if I hadn’t-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stops herself, hands to her face as tears fall. Buck’s more confused than ever. “What happened?” He asks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stills, eyes blinking unbelievingly. “You overdosed on crack and methamphetamines.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck’s eyes widen as everything suddenly comes rushing back. He remembers buying the drugs, not so much taking them, but the worst part is remembering the boy. The blood and the-</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>BANG!</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
  <em>He flinches and Maddie is at his side in seconds, hand on his arm and another along his forehead as if checking for a temperature. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“N- No.” He pushes her away, hurting more than ever. She’s here but after so long how can he let her? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maddie falters and says with eyes downcast, “I met the people you work with. Your boss, Bobby told me what happened. Evan, I’m so sorry. I should have been here.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> He looks away from her, to the big door out into the outside world, empty, and says, “Yeah, you should have.” It’s almost bitter, a way to not take the blame himself. But he feels it. The gun in his hands, dropping to asphalt. The blood. He can see it gathering under the door until finally it opens and Bobby stands before them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hi.” He says, and he won’t look at Buck. It makes Buck’s skin crawl, makes him want to escape. In his hands is a folder tied up neatly together with something like string around it. Thick and snug he nods to the both of them, eyes finally meeting his. “You’re awake.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck doesn’t say anything, he feels tears gather though as Bobby steps over the blood and moves a little closer. “You’ve been asleep for nearly four weeks.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> That explains why his body is so exhausted and why he’s so tired. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The review happened without you. I vouched for you. You’re off the hook. You can come back to work-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m not going to.” He finds the words to say it almost too late. He’s droopy and tired, but the guilt tears him up inside in a way that having his appendices burst at nine seems like a dreamscape. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bobby nods and doesn’t argue. But Maddie does with, “Are you sure, Evan? You should think about it some more.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I have.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> No one speaks for a long time until Bobby puts the folder gently on his bed. “Everything about the case and- and the boy if you ever… It’s buried. No one will find it and the press has been taken care of. I called in a few favours.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He doesn’t deserve any of it. He just doesn’t, so he turns away to his sister and lets the tears slip by his closed eyelids, feigning sleep as Maddie thanks him anyway. As Bobby warmly touches his shoulder one last time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It takes him a while to get back on his feet, but when he does it’s with promises from Maddie that he won’t touch those drugs again. He makes him pinky swear and he can’t go against that. But it’s the crack and meth he agrees to, a little grass on the other hand never hurt anyone, right? But he finds solace most of all in the bottle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A bar a few streets down becomes a sanctuary. He drinks, the bartender pours, and his mind becomes fuzzy and numb. Maddie insists that she’s staying in LA, but Buck doesn’t say anything for or against it. He’ll believe it when he sees it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The file gets stuffed in the back of his closet in a box he does not open. Sometimes when he’s really drunk he’ll take it out and stare in a haphazard stage of unthinking. But even drunk, he never opens it. It stays firmly shut. His life too, as his and Maddie’s relationship grows more strained until it’s almost non-existent. His life most of all though, until one day at the bar, a woman with a killer smile and red hair to match says, “This one’s on me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t need your pity.” He tells her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She grins anyway. “No pity, you just look like you could use it, and I may or may not know who you are.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> He freezes with the drink halfway to his mouth before swallowing it back whole. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My boss was offered an exclusive in the Sunday Butcher case, in exchange that we don’t publish certain witness reports about an unarmed shooting… The guy was fired with severance pay. A newly acquired detective with a daredevil’s streak.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Buck doesn’t move, his eyes instead burn into the wood of the bar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You know, I’m not your enemy, and in fact there are other ways to help people, to catch criminals than with a gun.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> And he can’t help it, he has to smile bitterly almost smirking, turning to her and asking with raised eyebrows, “The pen is mightier than the sword?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> She reaches out and clinks their glasses together. “Something like that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She sips and he stares, his heart fluttering, feeling something more than guilt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Think of it as atonement. Redemption. Whatever. You’re alive, he’s not. Make the best of it, right? We have an opening for a reporter at the Tribune, an ex-cop is always smiled upon. Think about it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And in the meantime?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smirks now too, leaning in close to say, “How about you buy me a drink?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And so he does, hand held out to shake. “I’m Buck.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know. I’m Taylor. Taylor Kelly.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Who knew falling in love could be so easy? </em>
</p><p><em> And as the days go on, that file falls deeper and deeper into the back of his closet until he forgets that it was even really there in the first place. Only the small moments of remembrance, of guilt does it become real. And true. </em>Like now.</p><p>-</p><p>“Buck?” Eddie asks, eyes half closed and hair messy as he walks out of his bedroom. Buck scrambles to close the scrapbook and shove it into the box with the other stuff.</p><p>“Sorry, I tripped.” He says quickly as he stands up and Eddie walks closer, eyes looking to the box back to Buck.</p><p>“Are you alright?” He asks, eyes almost searching.</p><p> Buck falters a little under his gaze, trapped and afraid. “Y- Yeah. I just… Um, thanks.” He’s smiling, or at least he’s trying to. “For looking out for me. I’m uh, I’m alright now though. I’m going to go home.”</p><p>“I can drive you.”</p><p> He’s backing away more quickly until he’s by the front door, Eddie following him. “No, I’m good. I’ll call you later though! About the letter.” He quickly grabs it and makes his way back to the front door, leaving the apartment with Eddie standing there in a perplexed expression of confusion and uncertainty. As though he doesn’t believe him. Buck tries not to think about that too much as his insides twist and curl, and he breathes heavily, dangerously.</p><p> Getting a Taxi is no trouble, but his heart is in his throat the whole way home. Palms sweating, and nerves and anxiety getting the better of him. And for the first time in a long time, he almost wants to ask to be stopped at the drugs place. To get something stronger. To fall into oblivion again, or at the very least go back to the bar and drink until he can’t think. But he’s done all that before, and look where it’s gotten him.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Eye for an eye, isn’t that how it goes?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Did you like my last one, Buck?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Missing pieces everywhere, this one will have a snare. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Under the Pines in Pines Acres will I leave you it. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Never underestimate me, because I know you.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Don’t worry she won’t bruise, just a strangle hold will do. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Over and under, we’re almost done. Till we meet again, my son. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em> Sincerely, </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>    your biggest fan</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> His fingers run over the script as he feels nausea hit him. A big tidal wave of every awful thing, and for the first time in a long time he just wants to call his sister. Have her hold him like she did when they were younger and he’d have all those awful nightmares because of the pictures they’d sneak into. The ones Maddie said he wasn’t old enough for, but that he stubbornly refused to listen to anyway. He just wants this ache in his chest to stop. To quit. But it can’t, and it won’t. And he’s, s<em>tuck</em> right here in this.</p><p>“Excuse me, sir? We’re here.” The driver says.</p><p> Buck startles and hands over some money. “Thanks.” He mumbles before rushing out and walking up to his building. As soon as he’s at his door, he hurries in, and doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes as he makes his way to his room. To his closet where a file of his making is buried and supposed to be lost forever.</p><p> He sees blood seeping in through the bottom of the doors and he closes his eyes, breathing deeply, hand still on the doorknob, trying to gain some courage to do this. To face what he’s always been too afraid to face. Too guilty. Too awful.</p><p> He opens the door and bows down to his knees, scrambling through old memories and old articles to the box that he rips open. To a file he dared never look at. Something he always wished he had the courage to either look at, or to burn it altogether. In the end, he could do nothing. He was and is nothing.</p><p> He unties the string and opens it. His eyes skim down the words until he gets to the <em>victim. </em>In black and bold letters for all the world to see, it says the worst thing he’s ever read, <strong><em>Christopher Diaz.</em></strong> The tears are already coming and his lip wobbles, and he thinks of Eddie and his kindness of a voice on a telephone line saying, ‘<em>We both know what really happened in 1972, don’t we Buck?</em>’</p><p> And the worst thought, because he didn’t want to think about it, comes to him just as something hard and painful crashes into his head. Darkness envelopes him as a familiar voice says, “<em>Sleep tight. Don’t let them bite.</em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. father, son, friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Buck knows that he’s been slow to the obvious, but this just takes the cake. Blinded by his own personal biases, that’s the only way he can explain how he finds himself tied up to a chair in front of a man he thought was his friend. A letter clutched in his hand with a clue so obvious, those from above the firmament could see it. The first letter of every line spelled out in each letter, <strong><em>E – D – M – U – N – D – O</em></strong>. Or Eddie for short. The man whose son he killed in the line of duty, if he can even call it that.</p><p> He remembers that day well, August 5<sup>th</sup>, 1972. It was sunny and bright, and there were people everywhere. He was so ambitious and willing to do fly at any sudden movement. Any break at all to prove himself. He pulled the trigger without thinking, and he has regretted it every day since. He thought he had moved on, found a few new job and some kind of new life. New girl, new friends, and a new everything. A box with a file in the bottom of his closet that he never touched. But it was always with him, and always will be. It just took a little more death to make him push it wide open.</p><p>“You with me, Buck?” The man asks and it’s nothing like Eddie at all. No annoyance, no face stuck in impassive emotion. He’s all smiles and sarcasm, and a whole other person. Lowered a little even, hands moving so differently than Eddie’s always steadied ones. Going for a cigarette and lighting it with ease. Even his smoking is different. Is this an act? Or was ‘Eddie’? Maybe none of it was. Maybe all of it was. All Buck knows for sure, is that the man that now stands before him is the man he’s been itching to catch. The one and only, Gurdy. <em>His biggest fan. </em></p><p> The man leans in close, hand in his hair, fingers curling almost tightly, almost hurting as his eyes follow Buck’s, so close it hurts to look at too long. “Maybe I hit you too hard, what do you think?”</p><p>“Who are you?” It comes out in a breathless gasp, unable to ask anything else. It itches within to know. To put a name to this face, a face that he thought he knew so well.</p><p> The man smiles all crooked and terrible as he steps back, hands held out wide. “Why I’m Gurdy!” He leans in close, close enough for Buck to taste his breath. “Your biggest fan.”</p><p> But all Buck sees is the monster wearing his reluctant partner’s face, his almost friend, Eddie. “You’re not Eddie.” He says, the realization so sudden that it almost knocks him off his feet, the chair flying that he’s sitting on too if it did. Eddie wasn’t made up, he was real, and he is not here right now. That much Buck is certain of now.</p><p>“Goodie on you, kid.” The man winks. “I guess you’ve figured out my little puzzle by now, no?” He holds the letter up and nods as Buck’s eyes widen. “Good, then Edmundo is fine, or Diaz, or… <em>Gurdy</em>.”</p><p>“Where’s Eddie?” He’s almost afraid to ask, in fact it takes him a few minutes to work up the courage.</p><p>“Don’t worry…” Edmundo says, a hand reaching for a small light weight butcher’s knife in one hand, a loaded gun in the other, all the chambers no doubt filled. Edmundo puts a hand to his head, a finger pointed right to his skull, the knife pressed against on the dull edge. “He’s right here. Right here with me.”</p><p> Buck’s not sure where they are, but it’s dark and dank, and it must be a basement. Edmundo continues with the knife, pulling it across the table of something old and worn, gliding across the top. A <strong><em>shhzzzz </em></strong>sound that makes his head ache. Reminds him that he was hit harshly by something. It’s all a dull thud. Edmundo smiles as though he likes the pain. “Eddie doesn’t remember, he never does but I do. I protect him you see. From when we were little lads on chairs, a father who touched too much if you catch my understanding.”</p><p> He winks, and Buck feels sick, revolted. He wants to throw up, but he can’t and he doesn’t. Edmundo continues, more smiling all the while. “Then there was ‘Nam, and when I tell you that being a POW isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be, than I’m telling fairy’s all over the place.” He points the knife outward, empathising each word with a wave of it. “But, hey,” He throws his hands up, false ease on his features, “We made do. After all we had a beautiful wife that I didn’t mind even though she was just between me and you a bit whiny, and a kid-” At that Edmundo pauses and genuine tears form in his eyes as the knife is stabbed onto the table, biting into wood or metal, Buck’s not sure. “A kid. I don’t like kids, but he was… Different. Eddie loved him more than anything. We had something to go back to. He did, and then you-”</p><p> The knife is at his throat and Buck gulps, more afraid than ever before. Eyes widening and a nervous gulp resounding. He stares at the tip of the blade for a few long moments before finally he finds the courage to look up and meet Edmundo’s eyes that sparkle. “Coming back to that… I had to take over. I had to make it right. I thought maybe the guy would be decent enough to kill himself, because let me tell you,” And then he’s there, face in Buck’s and so serious and determined, honest in a way that scares Buck, bites into his blood, “If I ever hurt a child, I’d do the honourable thing.” He puts the knife to his own throat, tears in his eyes and mimics cutting straight across. He then puts it to Buck’s and Buck flinches, eyes tightening shut as Edmundo’s hand comes up behind his head, squeezing harshly, a clear sign that he must look so he does. He watches as Edmundo pulls the knife across his neck, mimicking cutting him as he says, “But you didn’t.”</p><p> He pulls away entirely and Buck can’t help but breathe a little in relief, and before he can stop himself he’s yelling, “THEN FUCKING DO IT! What the hell are you waiting for!? Why kill all those people, Eddie!”</p><p> Edmundo is on him in an instant, eyes locking into his. “I’m not Eddie.”</p><p> Buck’s eyes falls shut and tears he can’t help come slipping out. He’s breathing harshly and he thinks of his sister. Of how he screwed up that relationship. Of Bobby’s calls he never picked up. Of the others until they just… S<em>topped. </em>Because he did. And he thinks of Taylor screwing him over. Of Josh’s snare. He thinks of Eddie’s soft hands pulling a blanket up over him, words sure and kind, <em>“Let me take you home.” </em></p><p>“FUCK.” He half screams to himself, eyes tightly shut as his body is racked in sobs and suddenly none of it matters. And he wills that knife to come because there’s a pool of blood at his feet, and a mop of brown hair. Of crutches that shine brightly in the sun. A father’s vengeance tied in two. In all the other bodies. <em>His bodies. </em></p><p>“That’s it. That’s good.” Edmundo’s hand is on his head, on his hair petting it down almost comfortingly. “Just let it all out.”</p><p> And he does, and Edmundo pets his hair and tells him calming and soothing things dressed up in care when in reality it’s something far more sinister.</p><p> When he’s calmed down some and with Edmundo’s hand still in his hair, Edmundo says, “You asked me why I didn’t just kill you. It’s because of this, Buck. I wanted you to <em>feel </em>it. Know it. Taste it.”</p><p> Slowly his eyes open and Edmundo’s are right there, excited beyond belief. His hands struggled in the sobbing, and they loosen the ropes. He doesn’t notice it at first until his thumb is suddenly free. It takes almost all of his effort not to let his discovery into his features as he continues to work even more at getting the rest of his hands behind his back free.</p><p>“Now you have.” Edmundo nods. “It’s not so easy, is it?”</p><p>“What is?” Buck asks, throat raw and rough, his voice much the same.</p><p> Edmundo smiles and reaches out, a hand on the back of his neck, along his jaw until he’s wiping the tears away, eyes on his. “Living with it.” He says simply.</p><p> And then before he can blink, the knife is pulled back and he himself is pulled free from his bounds. He pushes Edmundo with all of his might. So hard it cracks something in his hand but he doesn’t care, he has Edmundo on the ground and there is a knife, the struggle for it is fierce, the gun lost entirely.</p><p>“N- No.” Buck is saying and he doesn’t even know why as they struggle for control of it, and then-</p><p>“Ah.” Edmundo says, eyes wide as the knife lands straight into his chest, into right where his heart beats. And just like that, Gurdy’s wires are cut. He falls down and dead like a puppet, eyes wide and small before they blink and turn normal. Big soft and brown, face impassive but hands gentle and kind. <em>Eddie. </em></p><p>“E- Eddie!” Buck yells and he’s at his side in a second, hands pushing down on the wound rapidly filling with blood. With the knife he dares not pull out. Keep pressure on the wound. Keep pressure on the wound. Keep pressure on the-</p><p>“B- Buck?” Eddie gasps out as blood begins to form in his mouth. He’s confused and lost, his words and his eyes say just as much, just as Buck’s own fill rapidly with tears. As his hands press on the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. To save his life. But Eddie’s hands are on his, on the one on his wound, and the other on his arm, tight and unrelenting. Eyes so fuzzy but somehow finding Buck’s.</p><p>“D- Did we s- stop him? Did we stop Gurdy?” He asks as blood begins to be coughed up horribly.</p><p> Buck nods, tears overflowing. He tries to wipe them away in his arm, and to smile. “Y- Yeah.” He tells him honestly. “We did.”</p><p> Eddie nods. “T- That’s good. I- I want to go and v- visit my son. H- He’s w- with my parents. I- In Texas.”</p><p> Buck’s heart falls. He really didn’t know. He really…</p><p> The blood continues to flow and Eddie’s eyes grow duller. Buck nods and agrees with the worst kind of weight in his chest. With the kind of horror that makes nightmares seem like dreams. “Y- Yeah, I think you will visit him. Real- Real soon, Eddie.”</p><p> Eddie grips his arm tighter and looks up firmly, and he smiles. Buck will never forget it. “I saved your life, didn’t I? The ropes, they weren’t too tight… I guess this means we’re really friends now.”</p><p> And for the life of him, Buck can’t figure out if it’s Gurdy- <em>Edmundo </em>speaking, or Eddie, but it doesn’t matter, does it? They’re the same. They’re Gurdy. The monster he himself somehow created. With one simple act. One awful mistake.</p><p> Buck leans down and rests his forehead gently against Eddie’s as Eddie takes his final breath. “We’ve always been friends, <em>idiota</em>.”</p><p> He can feel Eddie smile, genuinely as he does much the same, and then Eddie takes one final gasp of life.</p><p> And then he’s sobbing into the broken form of his friend.</p><p>-</p><p> The boss’ chair at the Tribune has not been filled, but sitting on top is a white envelope with clear, distinct script saying, <strong><em>Resignation</em></strong>.</p><p>-</p><p>“After all that and a mugging gets him…” Chimney says with a shake of his head and anger thrumming through his veins. Buck watches him and tries not to smile. Maddie is there too, Bobby, and Sal, Tommy, and Athena and May. Hen with Karen. Bosko too. They stand around the gravestone next to Eddie’s son’s.</p><p>“Are there still no new leads on Gurdy?” May asks with her eyebrow raised.</p><p>“Oh, honey, we’ve been looking but it seems like Gurdy’s work is done for. As of now anyway.” Athena tells her.</p><p>“And the feds are backing off too.” Bobby chimes in.</p><p> Sal almost smiles. “At least that’s one bit of good news.”</p><p>Hen rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Drinks at Red’s?” Chimney asks them all, and everyone nods, but despite their hard shells, Buck see beyond it all into the real grief. Even Bosko, the newbie looks torn up as she nods along. The other’s start to head out but Buck stays behind.</p><p>“Are you not coming?” Maddie asks, her hand on his arm.</p><p> Buck touches it with his own. “I’ll be right behind you guys, I just need a minute.”</p><p> Everyone nods and heads out, but Bobby stays behind, waving to the others and letting his wife kiss his cheek one last time with eyes of promises for later. Eventually it’s just the two of them.</p><p>“Buck-” Bobby starts, but he cuts himself off briefly.</p><p>“Just say what you want, Bobby.” Buck tells him as he looks to the gravestones that were made too soon. Made by him.</p><p>“I know that this isn’t the time or the place, but did you ever… Did you ever look at that file I gave you? About 1972?”</p><p> Buck gulps, his stomach filled with so many conflicting emotions that it’s hard to pick out just one right now. He refuses to look at Bobby though as he says, “You’re right, this isn’t the time, or the place.” But before Bobby can add more, he turns to look at him and says swiftly, “No, I didn’t. I burnt it.”</p><p> Bobby considers him for a long moment before he does the right thing and nods, saying nothing. “I’ll give you a minute,” he says, “but Buck-”</p><p>“Whatever it is Bobby, don’t you think it’s better I didn’t know?”</p><p> And there’s a moment as their eyes lock where understanding and true honesty could be attained. A real friend. Redemption. Maybe even forgiveness. But they’re long past that, thinks Buck, wouldn’t Bobby agree? Wouldn’t you?</p><p> Bobby nods. “I’ll meet you at the bar.” He lands on, and he pauses a long moment before finally reaching out and clasping his shoulder one last time, warmly and lovingly. And then he’s gone and Buck is alone with his terrible choices.</p><p> He kneels down and lets the tears come as he tries to wipe his hands of blood in the dirt of graves.</p><p>“Hey.” He says to them both, but mostly to Christopher. “My name is Buck and- and I uh, I made a mistake. And I- I- I’m so sorry.”</p><p> He falls into a heap of tears, hand coming to his eyes and mouth as the words of Eddie’s gravestone refuses him to look away.</p><p>~</p><p>
  <strong>Eddie Diaz<em><br/>
</em></strong>
  <em>July 6<sup>th</sup> 1944 – September 10<sup>th</sup> 1978</em>
</p><p>Father</p><p>Son</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Friend</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>~</p><p>The gun that was lost is tucked into the back of his jeans. He’s not going to the bar. He’s done drinking, he’s done enough of that for a lifetime.</p><p> He almost smiles, whispering to himself brokenly, “My friend Gurdy.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Will's voice from Hannibal,* <em>"...Because he was my friend."</em></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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